


The Politics of Politics

by junko



Series: Senbonzakura's Song [21]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aunt Masama Kuchiki has skillfully lead Renji right into a trap that has made him look like a hot-tempered, untamed... <i>dangerous</i> man in front of the Kuchiki clan.  Byakuya needs to use all his political skills  to step in and save face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Politics of Politics

Renji’s body trembled with barely contained rage and his face flushed with shame, as Byakuya ordered: “Wait for me outside, Renji.”

What else could he do? Renji kept his eyes down and he bowed deeply, respectfully,… subserviently. “Hai, Taicho.” Renji stayed low for an extra breath as he tried to add a ‘–sama,’ but he just couldn’t do it. 

It was too bitter on his tongue.

Pulling up, Renji turned a sharp about-face and marched out of the dining room. It was a good thing that servants opened the door for him or Renji was sure he’d have torn the frame right off its track.

Gods damn Masama all to Hell. Renji couldn’t believe how easily she’d led him right into her trap. So fucking clever. She’d let everyone know Renji was from Inuzuri, made him look like some kind of gold digging, status hungry whore—even brazenly telling the entire crowd he was sleeping with someone in the household, though she’d carefully avoided saying exactly who—and then she’d skillfully let his temper do the rest for her.

And the ‘best’ part? Making Byakuya jerk Renji’s leash to get him back in line.

The worst part? Renji really needed to put his fist through something and he couldn’t. Because, if he went out here and raged, he’d just be making her point that he was some kind of frightening, dangerous animal. 

So, instead, he had to find a way to wait in the hallway like a good little subordinate. Fuck it, he might as well go all the way. Slamming his knees to the tatami, Renji smacked his head to the floor. Putting his hands out in front of him, he focused on containing his roaring reiatsu and not flattening everyone and everything in this estate.

When the door swished shut, Renji could hear the soft, sharp tones of a Kuchiki argument. Renji tried not to catch words and phrases like ‘see how he is’ and ‘base’ and ‘what can you expect from a crass creature like that.’ 

Byakuya seemed to be managing, though—his voice stayed even, calm, and commanding. Byakuya probably knew better than to fall into Masama’s clutches, and, anyway, this was a battle played out in front of a large contingent of his clan. He had to win, if he was going to keep their respect.

That thought only made Renji feel worse. 

What was Byakuya going to have to agree to in order to keep face? Masama had reminded everyone at the table of Renji’s insubordination, too. Who knew how many other relatives had heard that, along with Byakuya’s quick dismissal of it all as inconsequential. 

They were kind of screwed. 

Byakuya was going to have to come down hard. Even though Renji hadn’t said or done anything all that bad, it was the look of the thing: a big, Rukongai bruiser physically threatening a noble woman. His posture, his tone—what Renji’d actually said didn’t much matter. He’d made a threat to a Kuchiki. Byakuya couldn’t take that lightly as a clan head, probably not as a captain, either.

Renji couldn’t decide if being out of uniform made it better or worse. In would have been better--a captain can kick his lieutenant back into line. The kimono blurred the lines too much. 

The doors slid open and a singular pair of delicate feet stomped out. They paused seeing him kneeling there. There was a little, “humph,” and Renji knew it must be Masama who stood in front of him. He didn’t look up, even though he could feel the weight of her stare on his back, on the kamon. 

“I don’t care what he says,” she said, as though to herself. “No amount of honor in battle can raise something like you up out of the filth. I don’t care if it’s the Gotei way—its ‘proud tradition.’ Ours is the only tradition that matters and all he’s ever done is flaunt it for his sick, Inuzuri fetish. You know that’s all you are to him, one of his Hanged Dog bitches.” 

Renji knew she was just trying to get a rise out of him, so he kept his mouth shut and his head to the floor. Besides, as petulant as she was being gave him hope that Byakuya might have pulled out a save, won this round.

“You’re playing the part well,” she hissed. “But, your true nature is right there in that mon, isn’t it? A demon. Very apt. You’re just biding your time to bare your fangs.”

_Done and dusted, Lady,_ Renji thought. _He knows all about my fangs. And, you’re out of luck: he likes ‘em._

There was a long moment of silence. Then Renji felt something wet hit him on the back of the neck. Did she just spit on him? The fuck. But, despite the depth of the insult, Renji could feel himself smiling, because Masama must have been at wit’s end if she was reduced to something so ‘crude.’

When even that failed to get him to react, she finally stomped off.

#

Renji’s knees were starting to ache a little by the time Byakuya finally came out. No one else had left the dining hall after Masama’s dramatic exit, so Renji knew Byakuya must have been taking the time to spin the events in his favor as best as possible. 

But, it wasn’t over. Renji knew he might have to swallow his pride and take a dressing down or a slap on the nose in front of the family. 

“I see you understand the seriousness of the situation,” Byakuya said standing in front of him.

_Okay, here it comes_ , Renji thought, steeling himself. He grit his teeth and said contritely: “Yes, sir.”

“You raised your voice in a threatening manner to a high-ranking member of my family. It will not be tolerated. If it happens again the punishment will be swift and severe, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Renji told the floor. Just a warning? Things must have gone better than Renji’d dared to hope.

“Very well. Dismissed.”

Dismissed? Okay, that sucked and was certainly a shitty end to what was supposed to be a dinner date. It was kind of a slap, but Renji guessed it wasn’t reasonable to expect to be able to get up like nothing happened and waltz off to the bedroom together in front of the whole family.

Renji waited for Byakuya to turn away before pulling himself to his feet. Even though he knew Byakuya wasn’t looking, Renji made another deep bow for the benefit of whatever family was watching and backed off in the opposite direction. Once he was far enough down the hallway, Renji turned around and headed for the servant’s exit. 

At least he had a clean room to go back to.

Maybe if he went out the back gate, he could swing past an izakaya and pick up a bottle or two. Then, maybe he’d drown his sorrows or let Zabimaru slash up the dojo… ah, hell, he couldn’t go anywhere without Zabimaru. Renji stopped when he came to the kitchen and looked around for a face he recognized. “Hey, Aio, any chance you could swing by Eishirō’s room and fetch me my Zabimaru? I’d go myself, only I have no idea where it is and I probably better not wander around unattended.”

“Oh, Renji, of course, I can go,” she said with such sympathy that Renji knew the word of the incident was already spreading like wildfire among the servants.

“Thanks,” he said gratefully, as he lowered himself onto a Western-style stool next to the hearth. 

“No problem,” she said. “I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“Oh, hey, and you might as well grab my uniform, too,” he added, before she turned the corner.

Glancing back, she nodded, “Sure, just wait here.”

Picking up a poker, Renji stabbed at the embers. As irritating as it was to have to go home and not spend the night, things could have been much worse. It hadn’t spun any further out of control or ended up with Renji in the guardhouse for assault or some other trumped up charge. Masama must have demanded his head, after all. The fact he didn’t even get a public slap made Renji figure Byakuya must’ve found a way to make her look the fool. No wonder she was so pissed off.

Now Renji was mostly just mad at himself for losing his temper and for embarrassing Byakuya. Rukia must think he was a right prat, too, acting like that at a family function. Byakuya was never going to take Renji anywhere in public, ever again.

Eh, that’d be all right, he thought with another poke at the fire, maybe they could just hide out in bed and give up on all this courting bullshit.

“Tea, Lieutenant?”

Renji looked up to see Eishirō offering a mug. Renji took it with a nod of thanks and, “I’d rather it was something stronger, but this’ll do.”

Eishirō leaned a narrow shoulder against the opposite side of the fireplace and let out a sigh. Renji waited for the recriminations or clucking of tongue, but Eishirō just sipped quietly from his own bowl of tea. Finally, he said, “I think in about a half hour you could take the secret passageway.”

“Huh?”

“To the master suite,” Eishirō continued as if Renji had a clue what he was talking about. “I suppose you could wait forty-five minutes if you wanted to be absolute certain not to be spotted.”

“You talking about sneaking me upstairs?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here in the kitchen?” Eishirō glanced at a set of backstairs meaningfully. “It’s just up those, a quick dash out into the hall to the panel with the single, stray cherry blossom. Follow it to the end.”

Renji chuckled. “You sly dog. I can’t believe you’re helping me hook up.”

“Who’s to say I’m not on his lordship’s orders?”

#

Renji spent the next forty-five minutes getting a lot of tea and sympathy from the staff. Even servants attached to other households made a point of stopping by to tell Renji that they thought Lady Masama had been bang out of order. 

“For one of True First families, they sure spend enough time worrying about class,” said one the stablemen who’d come into get the gossip. He’d brought with him a small bottle of beer and filled everyone’s cups.

“It’s ‘cuz they’re the youngest of them,” said the dishwasher. “Nouveau riche, I suppose.”

“The Kuchiki?” Renji asked disbelievingly. He sat on the stool with Zabimaru laid across his knees. Eishirō had pronounced the uniform in need of a wash, and had promised to return it discreetly to the division. “C’mon. You’re shitting me.”

“We’re talking about a zillion years ago,” the stableman explained. “And, it makes sense, doesn’t it? You don’t hear the Shihouin giving a toss about who sits how far up the table. But, these Kuchiki—man, you’d better not fuck up who goes first or they’ll take it out of your hide.”

Well, Renji couldn’t really argue that. The stableman held out the bottle, so Renji lifted his tea bowl and let him fill it.

“Thems further out are worse,” said a footman attached to some cousin or other from the boondocks, who got the bottle next. “They guard what little they have like tigers. They won’t even let us raise our eyes to them on the threat of a switch. And who are they? Someone’s fourteenth cousin six times removed!”

“They’re not all like that,” insisted a lady’s maid with her wispy blond hair in a prim little bun that reminded Renji of Momo. She had mending in her lap. Her stitches were neat and small. “You’d be surprised how decent and humble my lord and lady are.”

“That’s because they work for a living,” said the stableman, tipping the bottle back and sucking down the last of the dregs. “Your people are the silkworm farmers, aren’t they?”

“They own the farms and oversee the workers,” she corrected with a little blush. “Though they are the shrine caretakers.”

“See, they put their backs into something,” the dishwasher said. “Makes a difference.”

“Like our own,” said the stableman proudly. “Captaining is real work, ain’t it, Lieutenant?”

“It is,” Renji agreed. “Very much so. Plus, he went to Academy, just like me. In the heat of the battle, at the end of the day, Byakuya is a soldier like any other.”

There was a strange moment of silence when everyone was looking at Renji funny. Finally, Renji had to ask: “What?” 

“Can you just call him that? ‘Byakuya,’” just saying it made the dishwasher twitter nervously. “So casual-like?”

Oh. Had he forgotten to say Taicho? “Um, only in private.” 

Speaking of, it was time to go. Renji stood up and thanked everyone for the kind words and shared stash. They told him he was welcome around their fire any time, and they gave him three cheers for giving Aunt Masama a what-for she’d had coming for a long time in their estimation.

Renji shook his head at how quickly the story was already changing. He’d been the one on his knees, after all. Meanwhile, in the nobles’ quarters he’d probably dragged Aunt Masama off by her hair or worse.

At the top of the stairs, Renji paused to make sure the hall was empty. When he was sure there was no one coming, he dashed across to a series of painted panels depicting a wind-blown cherry tree in full bloom. Following the gust of petals, Renji traced them along the wall. There were fewer and fewer in each picture. Finally, after several feet, he came to a panel that had the last blossom. Experimentally, he pushed on the panel. Nothing happened. He tried sliding it one way, and then the other. He even tried lifting it and running a finger along the edges. Finally, he noticed that the pedal was actually a cleverly disguised hole. He stuck his finger in it, felt around until something lifted. Then, the door slid open easily, exposing a rough, narrow passage between the walls.

Renji wedged himself inside and, after a minute or two of getting the door back in place and the latch reset, he started a side-shuffle forward. Luckily, there was, as Eishirō had implied, only one way to go. His shoulders were just a little too wide for the space, but the ceiling was quite tall and the floor was surprisingly springy and well padded. His feet made no sound as he worked his way along. A tiny bit of light came in through a gap in the panels near the ceiling, so the passageway was dim and murky, but not pitch dark. It smelled of cut timber, dust, and secrets.

Someone had carved their initials into one a support beam. Seeing the name there with a heart and a plus ‘S.K.’ made Renji wonder why there might be a hidden, secret way that led from the kitchen to the master suite, and just how many scullery maids and tea boys might have made this trip before him.

And how many had thought it was love.

Renji let his fingers brush the carved heart as he passed it. He hoped this kindred spirit had at least gone in with eyes wide open and had had no illusions about how things were going to end. As his fingers left the final rough edge of it, Renji let out a rueful huff of a laugh. Like he could talk. 

Mixing up classes. It never worked. Look at how well tonight had gone.

#

The passage had come to its end. Given what this route was likely for, Renji wasn’t surprised to see a small spyhole in the center of the panel. He put his eye to it. The view showed the sitting room with its sunken fireplace, the embers stoked to a warm glow. From this vantage point Renji could see all the way into the main bedroom. Byakuya sat on the edge of his bed, his hands between his knees. He’d removed the kenseikan and changed for sleep. He stared out in the direction of the balcony, his expression distant and thoughtful. 

It took Renji a few seconds to figure out where the latch was on this side, but knowing what to look for helped. Once he got the door open, he stepped through. 

Byakuya’s expression changed instantly at the sight of him. His eyes seemed to soften as if with relief. But, he stood up slowly, almost warily. “You haven’t left,” he said. “I’m glad.”

“I almost did, but Eishirō caught me in time. Couldn’t go without this, could I?” Renji held up Zabimaru, whom he’d carried with him. 

“Saved by Zabimaru,” Byakuya said with a little smile. 

“Yeah, or my forgetfulness,” Renji added with a grin. “Either way, it’s a win.” 

Once inside the main bedroom, Renji set Zabimaru up against the wall next to where Byakuya had propped Senbonzakura. Renji swore he heard a contented, settling sigh from one of them. Renji patted Zabimaru’s hilt affectionately. It was clear how happy Zabimaru was to be beside Senbonzakura again. Zanpakutō didn’t give a fuck about class, it seemed. Maybe there was some hope for them, after all. 

Byakuya stood beside the bed, watching Renji. He still had a funny look in his eye, something Renji couldn’t quite read, though, taking a guess, he’d have to say it was uncertainty.

“I ain’t mad if that’s what you’re worried about,” Renji said, coming over to stand in front of Byakuya. “Not at you, anyway. I feel stupid I fell for it. Your aunt walked me right up to her trap and I jumped on in. I should’ve been smarter…” he shrugged. ”Or at least kept the swearing to a minimum.”

That brought out a little chuckle from Byakuya. His fingers found their way onto Renji’s chest and he absently pulled at the folds the kimono. “That’s a difficult task with dearest auntie Masama.”

With Byakuya’s gaze on his chest, Renji’s nose tucked up against the top of Byakuya’s head. He took in a deep breath of the jasmine and musk smell he’d missed so desperately these last few weeks. He risked slipping his hands around Byakuya’s waist and resting them just above his hips. What he wanted was to crush Byakuya against him, throw them both on the bed, and rip their clothes off, but that wasn’t how things went in the master bedroom. Besides, Renji guessed tonight wasn’t the best night to go forgetting the rules—or his place.

Not to mention Byakuya’d be pretty pissed off if Renji managed to ruin this fancy-ass kimono the very first moment he got it. 

That gave Renji and idea. “Help me get out of this, would you? I got no chance figuring it out on my own. And honestly, I’m scared of wrecking it.”

Byakuya’s hands slid down to the obi and began untying it slowly, carefully. As he worked, he asked something so softly Renji almost didn’t catch it. “You like it?”

“Like it? It’s gorgeous. I’ve never had anything so beautiful in my whole life,” Renji said. Letting go of Byakuya’s waist, he held his arms out while Byakuya unwrapped him. Renji could see Byakuya’s brow was still furrowed. Something about the kimono still upset him. So, Renji blundered on, hoping to hit the right thing. “The kamon thing? The nue? You obviously thought really hard about that, about me. I mean, I don’t think I really understand the whole significance, but yeah. It’s lovely.”

Renji wanted to say something—well, more articulate, but also about how the image of the pale nue had instantly reminded him of Byakuya’ funeral kimono. It occurred to him, though, that they’d never really discussed that incident. Besides, it might seem weird to say: I appreciate that you’re finally showing me something you were only willing to express when you thought I was dead.

Byakuya expertly wound up the obi and set it on his mother’s dresser. “Aunt Masama isn’t playing by the rules,” he said, his voice full of something sharp. Turning back to Renji, Byakuya took the hakama that Renji stepped out of and folded them with crisp, snapping motions. Then, he began attacking the ties. 

Renji tried to crane his neck in order to watch and see if he could memorize where they all were and how they worked. 

Though his voice was even, Byakuya’s fingers plucked at the strings angrily. “I have agreed to her favorite candidate with very few stipulations of my own. I even sweetened the deal by allowing her to arrange a marriage for the boy that will be formalized the same time as his coming of age. I’ve let her organize this ridiculous fuss over my birthday. I’ve given a lot of ground. It’s high time she pony up.”

‘Pony up’? Renji chuckled a little to himself hearing that from Byakuya, but he swallowed it back. Byakuya wouldn’t appreciate the humor right now; he was ticked off.

“What she did tonight broke our truce,” Byakuya said, having loosened the outer kimono enough to slide it from Renji’s shoulders. He turned it around to frown at the kamon before he began some complicated ritual folding. “If I didn’t find the idea of an heir useful, I would send the boy packing tonight. It would serve her right. Have you stripped, she said? ‘Stripped.’” Byakuya’s shoulders shuddered with contained rage. “Like you were her servant. Like you were anyone’s servant.” Glancing over at the wall where the zanpakutō stood side by side. “She’s lucky neither of us were armed. You would have been well within your rights to demand blood.”

That surprised Renji. “Really?”

“Renji, you’re a lieutenant in the Gotei,” Byakuya’s voice hissed with exasperation. He returned to the undershirt, but stopped to look Renji in the eye. “Do you think she could demand such a thing of the Captain-Commander if he were at my table?” 

Renji thought about it, but he kept stumbling over one thing: “So, you’re saying Yamamoto isn’t a noble?”

Byakuya let out a long breath. “Not born to it, no. But, you see, that’s my point, and why I applied for a kamon for you. The Captain-Commander has earned his place in society with his sword arm; he’s forged his own lineage with Ryuujin Jakka. That was, once upon a time, how anyone did it.”

Oh, so this was what Aunt Masama had been talking about in the hallway when she’d been snide about ‘Gotei tradition.’ 

Just then, the final layer of silk slid open and cold air fell on Renji’s exposed chest, stomach and—Byakuya laughed, “Do you never wear underwear?”

“Heh,” Renji said, “That should be my family crest, eh? Fundoshi with a big ‘no’ symbol through it.”

“Your surname should be changed to ‘Commando.’” Byakuya remarked dryly, his finger trailing along naked flesh, making goose bumps tickle up Renji’s arms and heat flare between his legs. 

“Renji Commando,” Renji laughed. “Actually, that’s kind of got a nice ring to it. I like it.”

“Mmmmm,” Byakuya murmured, leaning forward to place a fluttering sort of kiss on Renji’s collarbone as his hands slipped under the silk. The last of the kimono fell to the floor softly.

Closing his eyes, Renji tilted his head back and reveled in the sensations of Byakuya’s palms roaming over pectorals and shoulders, down arms, and back along ribs and abs. Thumbs pressed into the contour of hipbone in a way that made Renji arch his back as arousal stiffened nipples and cock. 

Byakuya’s lips and teeth found their way to his throat, and thumbs expertly flicked at nipples. 

Renji didn’t know what to do with his hands. What he wanted to do was to grab a fistful of Byakuya’s hair or cup the back of his neck and drag him into a deep, bruising kiss. To keep from doing that, he clasped them behind his back. Crushing his own fingers with the effort to hold himself back, Renji let out a deep, throaty groan. 

Byakuya stopped his teasing kisses. “What’s this? Total obedience? Tonight of all nights?”

Keeping one behind his back, Renji reached up with the other trembling hand and gripped Byakuya’s neck. He squeezed tightly and brought the top of his head down to Byakuya’s forehead. His words were a growl among tangled strands of red and black hair, “Look, it’s like this: I’m all out of self-control. Used it all up not punching your aunt. So, just tie me to the bedpost and have your wicked way with me. I’m up for anything so long as I don’t have to think about holding back and you fuck me six ways from Sunday.”

“Your grip is bruising.” Byakuya’s hands stilled against Renji’s body. “Are you so urgent? Should I use kidō or can you wait?”

“I can’t wait through no slow, arty kinbaku knots, but you got time to fetch handcuffs. The demon ain’t close. I just don’t have the energy to hold it back if it comes, you know what I mean?”

“Of course.” Byakuya nodded, though he didn’t leave to get the things right away. Instead, his voice was low, almost husky. “Sometime, however, when you’re ready, I would like to try something with kidō.”

“Yeah?” Renji grinned toothily. His grip lightened to tug at the hair a Byakuya’s neck teasingly. “Something you been thinking about?”

Byakuya’s reply was almost breathless. “Yes.”

Whatever this fantasy was, it sounded like the sort of thing that got deeply pondered late at night, alone in bed. A lot. Byakuya’s lashes trembled, and he seemed to be breathing shallowly. A rosy flush dusted his cheeks. 

Just seeing Byakuya getting this worked up made Renji harder. But… kidō. “Am I going to like it?”

“I don’t know. I would hope so, but I can’t be certain. Regardless, whenever we try it, I will stop immediately if you use the safe word.” His finger played with Renji’s nipple absently, making it harder for Renji to think. “You do remember your safe word?”

“Ikebana,” Renji said, as his knees trembled with what Byakuya was doing to his nipple. “Stop that for a second, would you?” Renji’s hand left the back of Byakuya neck to close around the distracting one on his chest. “How immobilized am I going to be?” Before Byakuya could get disappointed, Renji added, “Because tonight more is better.”

“Ah, yes. Fairly,” Byakuya said. Glancing up, his eyes shone with something like hope. “It’s a personal variation of Sajō Sabaku.”

“’Personal variation’? You been practicing?” Renji asked, jealously, but with teasing little head butt. 

Byakuya’s lips went thin at being bonked in the head. “In effect, every day, with Senbonzakura,” Byakuya said. Though his eyes stayed downcast and his voice even, the blush brightened on his cheeks. “Though, yes, several times—with myself, just to be sure.”

“With yourself?” Renji repeated. His smile was wide now, almost giddy. “Yeah, no, we can’t waste this. We’ve got to give it a try.”

Byakuya’s eyes came up. “Tonight?”

“Yes. Now,” Renji said. “We need lube?” There was a little nod from Byakuya, which made Renji even happier. “Then get it. Get everything we might need; we’re doing this.”

Byakuya made a sound that was almost like a squeak of joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Another (sexy-times) cliffhanger! I will post part three tomorrow.


End file.
